


arachnid assignment 14

by wisterispidey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awesome Michelle Jones, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, References to Drugs, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, basically i love the arachbros okay!!, the tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisterispidey/pseuds/wisterispidey
Summary: God, he wassogonna be late for his date with MJ. But crime stops for no one and whoever thought giving drugs to kids was a good idea was a complete asshole.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	arachnid assignment 14

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peterstank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterstank/gifts).



> happy birthday beedee! this is my (belated) birthday present for you <3 thank you for sharing your amazing stories and being such a good friend. you're my og forever and i love you so much!
> 
> (i hope you like this!!!)

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony looked down at Peter, who was sprawled on the lab floor. The kid had told him the floor was _really comfortable_ and that _you should try it some time._

Sure, he'd take a nap on the floor if he wanted to worsen his back pain.

“What’s up kid?” Tony answered, “Or should I say what’s down?”

Peter groans, “Has anyone told you that you’re not funny?”

“No, of course not, how am I _not_ funny.”

“You watch those really old movies and call them a masterpiece.”

“Really old—you take that back right now.”

Peter hummed. “No.”

“Disowned.” Tony sniffs, “You’re no longer my favorite Spiderling.”

Peter gave him a look, and they’ve known each other long enough by now for Tony to immediately translate it— _I’m your only Spiderling._

“Don’t give me that look.”

“Honestly. I don't know what you're talking about,” Peter paused, “is this what it’s like to be old?”

“Y’know what, zip it, no more words from the Spider-Baby.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, going back to his chemistry book while Tony looks back to the hologram he had up. He carefully analyzed the new schematics he had for Peter’s suit. After the kid got stabbed for the _third_ time this week, he refused to let it happen again.

A few seconds of amiable silence passed between them before Peter spoke up again.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Before you say anything, I am trusting you with this very top secret information.”

“Cross my heart, Pete—what’s up?”

Peter stared at the ceiling (if he had laser vision he probably would’ve burned a hole through it by now) and finally voiced his problem.

“There’s this person,” he started, “and I really like them, and I kinda wanna ask them out.”

_“Kinda?”_

Peter flushed, “Well, not kinda, _really,_ but I don’t know how to ask them out without like, fucking up.”

“Hey, that’s a dollar in the swear jar.” Tony tsked.

“Mr. Stark you don't have a swear jar,” Peter drawled, “and if you did you’d need another jar, or like five.”

Tony gasped, the audacity of this kid.

“Why’re you so snappy today sheesh,” he paused. “Wait, I know what, actually _who_ this is about.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“It’s about that girl, what was her name uh,” Tony wracked his brain, he _knew_ her name, “wait Michelle—this is about her, right?”

Peter spluttered, an embarrassed blush covering his face, “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tony gives him a look.

“Yeah,” Peter sighs in resignation, “it’s about her.”

Tony grins, they grew up too fast. It was obvious, he could’ve pieced it together weeks ago. The kid had been babbling about her all day, about how _her hair is so pretty_ and _she’s so badass, it’s amazing._

“Well then Pete, what tips do you need, you’re talking to Cupid himself.”

“Is that why you got Ms. Potts that rabbit for Christmas once?”

Tony huffed. “It was a good present—a big bunny, who wouldn’t want that?”

“Well—”

Tony wagged his finger, “No, forget I asked. Now, here’s my honest advice.”

“Michelle seems like she could kick your ass,” Tony started, “so, just ask her.”

Peter gaped at him.

“That’s it?”

Tony nodded sagely, “Just ask her, be straightforward, but also don’t be a dick either.”

“Swear jar.”

He threw the first thing he could reach—a rubber duck that Peter had brought for his so-called _experiment_ (read: annoy Tony)—and sighed when Peter instinctively caught it.

“One day,” Tony huffed, “one day.”

“Keep dreaming, Mr. Stark.” 

“Okay, smarty pants,” Tony snarks, “now are you gonna help me with your suit or no?”

Peter sat up immediately, his grin mirroring Tony’s.

“‘Course.”

* * *

Peter took a deep breath. MJ’s third period ended soon, and then it was lunch time. He’d ran over his plan with Ned three times already. 

Step one: meet MJ after third period. Step two: ask her out and pray that she says yes. Simple. He could do this. If he could dodge knives or the random apple during patrol, he could definitely do this too.

“What’s up, loser?” MJ looks at him, her hair looked really soft and _shit,_ he could not do this.

“The uh, the ceiling.”

She smiles at him, and wow, Peter could die happy right there. 

“Actually wait, MJ I need to—”

“Parker!”

He swore, Flash could choose _any_ to be the bane of his existence and apparently now was the perfect time?

“Fuck off Eugene,” MJ turned around, flipping the bird at him before looking at him again, “you were saying?”

He felt his heart stutter. That was _very_ MJ of her and, maybe it had something to do with his thermoregulation issues, but was it hot in here?

“Do you wanna get like a sandwich with me?” Peter blurts out, “Or coffee, or just whatever.”

MJ stares at him.

“Are you asking me out on a date first because of society’s standards?”

Peter splutters. _“What?_ No of course not, I—”

“I’m joking,” she smiles, “and yeah, I’d love to get a sandwich, or coffee, or whatever.”

Peter grinned.

* * *

In hindsight, Peter should’ve known this was gonna happen.

His date with MJ was today, and so far, the whole day seemed to be going smoothly. He actually managed eight hours of sleep for once, and all his homework for the week had been completed days ago.

It was a miracle.

But then Parker Luck struck.

It started after lunch had ended, when Peter was supposed to be heading to his fifth period class. But he could feel someone watching him, and his sixth sense was rarely—if never—wrong. 

So he waited, watching everyone head to their respective classes until the hall was completely empty.

_“Malen’kiy pauk.”_

Peter turned around, there was only one person that called him that.

“Nat?”

“Hey spider,” she smirks, “I need your help.”

He huffed. “But I have a date…”

Peter trailed off when he read Natasha’s expression. Something was bothering her, he could deduce that easily, but it had to be a _really_ bad something if she looked like that.

“Yeah okay, I’ll help.”

* * *

Peter met the Black Widow by accident. He’d been patrolling when he saw someone getting thrown into the back of a van. And usually when people get thrown into vans they were likely being kidnapped, and that was a big no-no.

So, he swung over only to find everyone in the van knocked out.

And Natasha fucking Romanoff sitting calmly in the back of the van.

“You’re the Black Widow,” he gasped.

“And you’re Spider-Man.”

After that, he’d got used to Natasha randomly appearing during his patrols, and when she found out who Spider-Man was behind the mask, he didn’t even bat an eye. 

He knew that she wasn't exactly on the best of terms with Mr. Stark right now, but Peter trusted her.

There was a lot he didn’t know about Natasha Romanoff, things that she wanted to keep hidden about herself, and that was okay. 

But one thing he knew was that Natasha was a good person, even if she didn’t always feel like it.

“So, what exactly did you need my help with?” Peter asked, stepping into the passenger seat.

“You know the recent increase of fentanyl related overdoses?” Natasha started, “I found the people behind it.”

Peter sobered immediately. If they were both thinking of the same drug ring, then it was the one that’s been directly targeting minors. But he was still confused, Nat could easily take down a drug ring by herself, there wasn’t any reason she’d need backup.

His brows furrowed. “So we just what, go in, punch them and get them arrested?”

“Basically,” she nodded, “but I digged up some shit about them, they don’t sell to adults.”

“And?”

“It means I can’t show up directly without it being suspicious,” Natasha paused, “but _you_ can.”

The gears in Peter’s brain clicked together. “You want me to pretend to buy drugs?”

“Bingo.”

* * *

God, he was _so_ gonna be late for his date with MJ. But crime stops for no one and whoever thought giving drugs to kids was a good idea was a complete asshole.

“This is like Arachnid Assignment 14 now, right?”

“Why do you always call it that?” Natasha asked, but Peter could hear the fondness behind her exasperation.

“Alliteration.” 

“Of course,” she rolled her eyes, “now you know the plan right?”

Peter gave her a thumbs up. And then he slid out the car, walking up to the abandoned apartment building. He ran his hands over his wrists—his webshooters were hidden underneath his sweatshirt sleeves—and took a deep breath.

“Nat,” he whispered, “can you hear me?”

Peter crossed his fingers, he really hoped the wireless earpieces they bought five minutes ago worked.

“Loud and clear,” she confirmed.

Walking down the halls already sent a shiver up his spine, but when he stopped in front of room 368, his whole body was screaming _run! run! run!_

Peter knocked on the door.

He tensed when it opened, revealing a burly man in a two piece suit. 

“How much do you want, kid?”

“I want,” Peter paused, _“this much.”_

Then he shot his webshooters at him, sticking the drug dealer to the door. His senses tingled, and Peter met the eyes of at least five other people in the room. 

“Um Nat,” he whispered, “now would be a great time.”

And then he counted three seconds, well aware of the people watching him. The man on the farthest left was reaching for something behind his back, and yeah that was probably who he should be going for first.

“I got your back, _malen’kiy pauk.”_

* * *

“You look like shit,” MJ observed. “Also, you’re like half an hour late to our date.”

Peter sighed, “Um, I can explain, see I was walking—”

“Don’t you mean swinging?” 

_“What?”_

“Cause you’re, you know,” MJ lowered her voice, _“Spider-Man.”_

Peter blanched. He wasn’t surprised that MJ found out about his alter ego, but he _wasn’t_ that obvious about it, was he? 

“How did you know that?” he asked, and MJ looked away from him, her face flushing.

“You and Ned are kinda obvious,” she slid her hand into his, “c’mon dork, we have a date to get to.”

Peter stared at their interlaced hands, his heart speeding up.

This was _awesome._

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday beedee <3000


End file.
